Victorian
by ga
155 words for Sallie
Rating: barely PG on the outside, warmer in the middle
Spoilers/Disclaimer: no, not mine
Category: MSR
Summary: just a moment
Note/Dedication: Sallie is a writer's dream fan as well as an all-
around sweet person and great friend. We'd talked once or twice 
about her having a fic of her own, and when the first sentence or 
two below showed up at Starbuck's the other night, they sounded 
to me like a Sallie story. Most of the rest appeared on the train out 
to Rae and Tam's, the last phrase in their living room; I gave Sallie a 
handwritten copy because I saw her before I saw my computer 
again.



Without meaning to, he'd begun to stroke her arm. They were 
talking of something inconsequential, standing too close as usual. 
Jacketless in warm weather, her rolled sleeves exposed enticing 
forearms nearly to the elbow; the temptation was simply too great.

It wasn't as though he hadn't seen the whole package. He had. Not 
often, not yet, but often enough to have charted freckles and 
dimples and sweet little hot spots. Even so, he still had a positively 
Victorian thrill at the glimpse of an ankle or wrist. 

That wrist, under his fingers, so soft on the surface but with veins and 
ridges and pulse points underneath. It reminded him of the feel of 
stroking himself, something he still did embarrassingly often, 
thinking of her.

She pretended to ignore him, continuing to put forth her well-
reasoned, though inconsequential, argument. Determined to win 
her point as usual, even as the back of her neck turned liquid inside.